


Serendipity & Caffeine

by RenegadePisces



Category: Bright (2017)
Genre: Cute Kids, Family, Gen, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenegadePisces/pseuds/RenegadePisces
Summary: Imagine Kandomere accidentally meeting your family.The reader is out enjoying a day off with their relatives and runs into a familiar face from work.
Relationships: Kandomere (Bright)/Reader, Kandomere (Bright)/You
Comments: 20
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

After a brutal few weeks of almost nonstop danger in your days and seemingly unending paperwork in your nights, you were thrilled to have a day off. The fact that you could spend it with your older sibling and their family made it even better. Working with the MTF was amazing, but you wouldn’t trade a hefty hazard paycheck for time like this with your family. 

These are your favorite kind of days. Perfect weather with sunshine and the slightest hint of a breeze to keep you all cool and comfortable while enjoying the shops lining the pedestrian district of town. You were in one of the trendier human neighborhoods not far from the border of Elftown. It had a hip, artistic reputation, which meant that your nephews were frantically turning their attention from one attraction to the next as quickly as their wondrous, adorable child minds would let them process the scene in front of them. The street was full of other families and couples out enjoying the weather, some holding shopping bags or takeaway containers. 

Your sibling and their young family lived in a quiet suburb while you lived further into the city, but you joined forces on weekends like this to expose the kids to some of the more positive parts of living near LA. You carried your oldest nephew’s gym bag slung across your shoulder, allowing him to chase after his little brother, giggling as they revolved around you and their parents like planets hurtling through space. They’d come from taekwondo practice and hadn’t wanted to change clothes before lunch. Their baby sister cooed in her stroller at clouds passing in and out of her line of sight overhead.

“What a nice day,” your sibling sighed, “So, how is work y/n?”

“Honey, not in front of the kids.” Their partner warned through a forced smile to avoid alarming the children. “No offense y/n.”

“None taken.” you assured them.

Your sibling didn’t work with the MTF like you, but they were an LAPD detective. You knew your in-law worried for you and your sibling, and you didn’t blame them. LA was a big city, and both you and your sibling saw some of the darkest and most dangerous parts of it and its residents on a daily basis. Besides, your sibling knew enough from the law enforcement rumor mill and the local news to know exactly what your work life was like. 

“Fine, fine, are you seeing anyone then?” your sibling quipped. 

Their spouse groaned and shot an apologetic look your way before fussing with your niece’s sunhat. Your sibling always was immature, even if they were older than you. Your nephews whipped around at this question, suddenly very interested in what the adults were saying. 

“You know these precious boys are the only gentleman for me!” you said, pretending to be scandalized. Your nephews dropped their serious expressions for wide, toothy grins. You were, in their words, the  _ coolest grown up _ , and they could be jealous of your attention. Of the few men you had dated long enough to warrant introduction to your family, they hadn’t liked a single one. To be fair though, neither had your sibling. 

“Oh y/n, would you mind staying with the kids while we run into this store?” Your in-law suddenly asked, stopping dead in their tracks on the sidewalk. The store window they were focused on looked like a promising place to find a gift for your younger nephew’s upcoming birthday.

“Of course!” you agreed, knowing firsthand what a bad idea it was to take 3 excited children into a store. 

You tempted your nephews away from the intriguing shop window - and the temptation to follow their parents inside - with the promise of gelato. You made monthly trips to this part of the city specifically to visit the bookstore next to the gelato shop, but you doubted you could convince the boys to let you go inside and browse the newest arrivals.

The boys ordered exactly what you knew they would - strawberry for the oldest and chocolate for the youngest. You treated yourself to a scoop of espresso and got a sample of orange-flavored gelato for your niece because you knew she always ate oranges first whenever they were put in front of her and assumed she wouldn’t mind orange-flavored gelato. 

You had just finished putting your wallet back in your pocket and rearranging your nephew’s bag on your shoulder when you felt both of your nephews grab you. The older one wrapped his small hand in yours, while his brother put his hand in your jeans pocket. It was a gesture you’d taught him half jokingly when he got old and independent enough that he didn’t want to hold anyone’s hand in public. It had been a compromise - he didn’t have to hold your hand but he did have to hold on. Both boys were at that age when they wanted to act and be treated like big kids - and that didn’t include hand holding. 

Concerned at their unusual behavior, you turned your attention away from the stroller to look at them. They were both staring intently in the same direction, toward the bookstore. You followed their gaze and noticed a familiar figure standing on the sidewalk. They were about the same height as you, wearing a strangely formal suit for a casual weekend stroll, and their hair was a striking and unnatural shade of grey and blue. And their eyes, which triggered you to finally recognize your boss through the pedestrians walking into your line of sight, were a piercing clear blue like the diamonds glittering in the nearby jeweler’s front window. 

“Special Agent Kandomere,” you greeted him, exhaling air you hadn’t realized you were holding in, “What brings you here sir?”

His lips creased as he drew closer. It wasn’t a smile, but it was certainly less of a frown than what you usually saw on his face. He was handsome regardless of his expression, but the fact that he never smiled made you anxious sometimes. You couldn’t tell if he liked you, or if he was even satisfied with your work most of the time. That didn’t bother you too much though. Your martial arts background brought a rare skillset to the task force, especially among humans, and your reviews so far were stellar. 

The boys’ grips on you tightened as he stepped closer. Were they afraid of him? They’d seen plenty of elves before, so you doubted that was the problem. Kandomere could certainly be intimidating even to adults though.

“I’m here for the secondhand bookshop. They have a larger selection of Ovusi than most chain stores.”

You guessed that he lived nearby then. That made sense - this neighborhood bordered the Elven district. You knew from personal experience how impressive the store’s selection was. 

Kandomere crouched down in front of you, bringing himself eye-level to your nephews. 

“And what are your names?” He asked. And for the first time since you’d met him - for the first time in the several months you’d worked side by side since joining the MTF - you saw him smile. 

The boys looked up at you, as if asking you for permission to talk to this stranger. You nodded encouragingly. Kandomere could be an asshole, but he wasn’t bad. He seemed to be putting in effort to be nice to your nephews. 

Cautiously, they told him their names. Kandomere shifted his gaze up and made eye contact with you once more, and you felt a little awkward as you took in the sight. Your superior, a respected - even feared - MTF Special Agent in Charge was crouching on a crowded sidewalk in a three piece suit that probably cost more than your rent and car payment combined. 

“Are you training to be like your mother one day?” He asked your oldest nephew, no doubt observing the gym bag slung around your shoulder and the fact that he was still wearing his taekwondo uniform.

You felt a blistering flush rise in your cheeks as your mouth suddenly went bone dry. Kandomere wasn’t the first to mistake your nephews for your children. After all, they had the same h/c hair as you and they generally resembled you in the same way that you resemble your sibling. But you’d never been this embarrassed by it before. 

“I wish I could take credit, but these are my nephews.” you blurted out.

The fact that Kandomere, instead of offering the sheepish grin and hasty apology or joke about family resemblances that most people followed up that assumption with only smiled more intently at you just made the whole situation seem more strange. There was something unfamiliar behind his eyes that you’d never seen before. You were certain you’d never made this much direct eye contact with him in the entire time you’d known him, so maybe that wasn’t so unusual. 

But still. It was all very weird and you wished the ground would swallow you whole. 

“They certainly take after you in charm, agent l/n.” He told you as he rose to his full height in an easy, fluid motion that oozed grace and dignity. That was more like him, or at least the version of him you were familiar with from work. This friendly, smiling Kandomere who was currently eliciting excited coos from your niece was a complete stranger to you. 

You were about to respond with something unintelligible when you noticed your sibling and their spouse approaching. With the practiced stealth of a detective, your sibling waited until the last possible moment to make their presence behind Kandomere known before announcing themselves by loudly greeting you.

“You must be Officer (l/n). Y/n’s mentioned you.” Kandomere greeted them, not fazed at all by the tactic. He shook hands with your sibling, and then their spouse. 

Dimly, through the roar of your almost palpable embarrassment, you realized that was the first time Kandomere had ever referred to you by your first name. 

Your sibling finally noticed the paper gelato cups in their children’s hands and leveled a piercing gaze at you. 

“Really? Even the baby? What are you spoiling my children for now?” 

They weren’t upset. You often joked that spoiling their children was your way of getting back at them for how they picked on you when you were younger. 

“As if I need a reason.” 

“Well, I hope you’ve at least learned a lesson, since yours has melted,” your sibling noted. 

You looked down, having completely forgotten about your espresso gelato until he reminded you. Sure enough, the mound of aromatic, creamy confection had melted into a pale brown pool in your cup. 

“Espresso, y/n?” Kandomere asked, before another smile broke across his features, “you don’t stop mainlining caffeine even on your days off.”

“This one’s just as bad. They both get most of their calories from a Styrofoam cup, I swear.” Your in-law joked and waved their hand toward you and your sibling. 

“Well in that case, you’ll have to let me make it up to you on Monday,” Kandomere said. 

After quickly exchanging goodbyes with you and your family members, he turned to walk away in the direction of the shopping center’s underground parking garage. Unfortunately, this left you at the mercy of your family’s curiosity. 

“Y/n,” your sibling warned, “I think your boss just asked you on a coffee date.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, “He gets coffee at work all the time.”

“Yeah, with his partner.” your sibling said.

“Come on honey, you  _ did _ ask if y/n was seeing someone.” Your in-law teased. 

“He said they were charming,” your oldest nephew interjected excitedly as your sibling hauled him up to sit on their shoulders. 

“He was staring at you.” his younger brother added, tugging at your hip pocket in the unmistakable signal that meant he wanted to be picked up and carried too. 

“No he was not!” You hissed as a red flush crept into your cheeks again and you stooped to comply with his demand. 

“Was too!”

You groaned, once again wishing the ground would swallow you whole and spare you the pain of waking up the next morning and realizing that the whole incident had in fact happened and wasn’t some figment of your imagination. 

“Come on boys, let’s go get lunch. And then you can tell us what else Agent Kandomere said.” your sibling said, smirking even as they danced out of reach of the playful punch you lobbed at their arm. 


	2. Chapter 2

You weren’t sure if Kandomere was flirting. You also weren’t sure if he’d meant what he said about coffee on Monday. 

Thankfully, an all points bulletin for a centaur brandishing swords in both hands as he galloped through the Natural History Museum prevented you from finding out. Of course, you were less thrilled at the prospect of missing lunch and lingering at the office well after dark. 

A notification from your phone tore your attention away from the mound of paperwork in front of you. You’d disarmed the centaur, but not without injury. The stitches you received at the hospital were not enough to get you sent home though. You’d put the cuffs on the centaur, so you had to deal with the paperwork. 

That meant forms for booking his swords into evidence, forms for cataloging damage to the museum, forms for turning him over to the hospital for drug screening - and you were certain he was on something - and more forms for processing him in jail. And then there were injury reports and the statements from your colleagues. The centaur would likely face an additional charge of assaulting an officer, which meant you could look forward to wasting an entire day testifying against him in court sometime in the future. 

You expected a text from Kandomere asking where your report was. He was usually the only other soul at the office this late. But it wasn’t Kandomere or anyone else in your unit. The notification was from your in-law, and your jaw clenched as you read it.

**Heads up, the kids said they saw you on the nightly news while we were washing dishes. Are you ok?**

Being on the news and the unwelcome attention that would bring wasn’t the purpose of their warning. You knew what they were really preparing you for. Any second now -

Your phone buzzed sharply against the wooden surface of your desk, only somewhat muffled by the piles of paper surrounding it. The caller ID image showed your sibling smiling broadly and grasping all three of their children tightly in a hug. It was one of your favorite pictures, but you were sure its subjects weren’t smiling now. 

Sighing, you accepted the call. Your sibling wouldn’t stop calling until they heard your voice. Maybe not even then. You did the same thing whenever they experienced a close call at work.

“Before you start, I am 100% totally fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” You told them, enunciating each syllable slowly and calmly in the hopes it would rub off on them.

It didn’t. 

“You went full Xena Warrior Princess on the 7 o’clock news, and that’s what you tell me?” Your sibling screeched, causing you to grimace and pull your phone away from your ear. 

“That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

That was clearly the wrong answer because you couldn’t manage to get a word in for 10 minutes while your older sibling ran through a laundry list of questions. 

_ No _ , you didn’t need to make a doctor appointment.  _ No _ , you didn’t need to stay the night with them either.  _ Yes _ , you were sure that you were perfectly well enough to drive yourself home from work.  _ No _ , you didn’t have a concussion. You suspected that last one wasn’t quite true, but that was a problem for later. 

Finally, your sibling seemed pacified.You’d put him on speakerphone about 5 minutes into the conversation so that you could keep doing paperwork.

“Okay, fine. But turn on your camera. I want to see your face. The kids want to see you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you warned. “I caught a hoof in the face at some point. I’m sure it looks worse than it feels but it might not reassure them.”

You heard the anxious intake of breath from the other end of the line and cut your sibling off before they could wind themselves up again. 

“What if I show  _ you _ my face and you tell them I’ll come over for dinner on Friday? The bruises will have faded by then. In the meantime, I can read them a bedtime story to distract them and you all can get to sleep.”

Your sibling paused, considering your plan. It was late and getting close to the boys’ bedtime. Your niece was hopefully already sleeping soundly in her crib at this point. But seeing news footage of your scuffle with the centaur had no doubt whipped them into a frenzy. You doubted they would sleep well tonight, and a pang of guilt echoed through you at the thought of them worrying about you. 

Your sibling agreed and did their best to stifle a wince when you flipped your camera on. You didn’t blame him. You gotten up from your desk since Ward and Jakoby brought you back to the station, which had allowed you to actively avoid all reflective surfaces. You didn’t need to see it to know it was bad. It felt awful. But you couldn’t let your nephews know that. 

The boys hadn’t quite learned to compromise yet, so you had to read two stories - one picked by each of them. Your sibling steered them toward mercifully short tales, and you channeled every ounce of effort you could muster into bringing them to life. At the conclusion of the second story, your sibling switched their camera away from the book and panned over the boys. 

Their tiny bodies were nearly still except for the steady rise and fall of their chests. Deftly and soundlessly, your sibling put the books away. You heard the soft  _ click _ of them flicking the lights off as they crept out of your nephews’ shared bedroom. 

“Good job y/n,” they yawned. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Yes! You’re such an older sibling!” You hissed exasperatedly. “I have one more page to fill out, and then I’m going home.”

“No, don’t go home. You’ll go straight to bed and wake up starving at 3 am. Grab some food first,” urged your sibling’s spouse in a voice made husky from drowsiness. Your sibling must have taken the phone with them into their bedroom.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure y/n gets home alright,” Kandomere said from a few feet to your left. You hadn’t heard him approach, or even seen him since you left the scene of the incident. You wondered when he’d gotten back. Had you really been so out of that you didn’t notice?

“We’d appreciate that Agent Kandomere,” your sibling paused, and you could hear the smile in their voice before they continued. What they said next nearly made you fall out of your chair. 

“And you’re welcome to come with y/n on Friday if you’re available. They’ll give you the details.”

A stream of expletives flitted through your mind as you processed what your sibling had just done. You’d only narrowly avoided embarrassing yourself on a (maybe?) coffee date at the expense of your ability to move any part of your face and upper body without being in pain. How the hell were you supposed to get out of a family dinner? Your sibling had already told the kids, so you couldn’t cancel without gravely disappointing them. You couldn’t stand the thought of upsetting them like that when they were so worried about you. 

But you didn’t find the thought of Kandomere sitting down to dinner with your family much more tolerable. What if your sibling tried to talk cop shop with Kandomere over dinner? What if your nephews asked you to sleepover, which they usually did if you came over for dinner on a Friday night? What if they pulled up those silly selfies you’d taken with them? Or that ridiculous video of you slow dancing with them at your cousin’s wedding last spring?

Kandomere thanked them for the invitation and your sibling hung up, leaving you sitting in the suffocating silence of the MTF’s bullpen with nothing but your feverish embarrassment and Kandomere for company. You’d been avoiding eye contact with him since he made his presence known, so you were surprised when he pushed a steaming hot cup of coffee into your hand. You hadn’t noticed he’d been holding a cup in each hand. 

The comforting, sharp aroma of espresso wafted up from the cup. Your mouth started watering as the smell reminded you just how little you’d eaten or drank that day. 

“You remembered,” you whispered, and felt very stupid as soon as the words left your mouth. 

Of course he had. You always ordered espresso when buying coffee. He could probably smell it all over you. And it had been less than 48 hours since he ran into you with a cup of espresso gelato in your hand. The fact that he remembered you liked espresso was less impressive to you than the fact that he’d actually bought you coffee. 

He’d been serious. 

“Thank you,” you added hastily, eager to recover some sense of control over the situation, “You didn’t need to.”

“I keep my word.” He said, and you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as he continued, “And you’ve earned it, going ‘full Xena Warrior Princess’ this afternoon.”

You groaned. You should have guessed he’d heard that with his superior sense of hearing.

“Xena would have looked cooler and not gotten kicked in the face doing it.” you laughed. 

“You looked good enough to me,” he insisted. 

You realized at that moment that both of you still had your hands on your coffee cup. The heat of the liquid inside seeped through the styrofoam cup and its cardboard sleeve, but you also felt the warmth of his fingertips brushing yours. 

“When I first tried Aikido, I made a smart-mouthed comment about the rarity of being attacked by a sword-wielding lunatic. It seems that I owe my teacher an apology, given what happened today,” you deflected, trying to smother the mounting unease his comment sparked with humor. 

He chuckled and withdrew his hand from your coffee cup. His fingertips ghosted over yours as he did. In the dim after-hours lighting of the MTF bullpen, he looked much less severe than in the bright light of day. There was more than enough light even for your human eyes to catch the faint trace of a smile in his features though.

“Clearly there’s no need for me to ask your sibling if your impertinence is a lifelong trait over dinner on Friday.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Dread wasn’t quite the right word for how you felt about Friday’s dinner. You could never dread seeing your sibling and their family. Your family wasn’t the issue. 

  
  


It wasn’t Kandomere’s fault though, you chided yourself. Your sibling and their spouse had invited him. He was more than welcome to attend. 

And the problem wasn’t necessarily that you didn’t want him to attend. You didn’t dislike him. In fact, he’d grown on you since you’d run into him while out with your family. As intimidating as he was - he had to intimidate to do his job - he clearly had a soft spot for children. He’d taken not only to stopping by your desk on his way to his office in the morning and asking how you were, but asking about your family too. 

No, your family wasn’t the issue. Neither was Kandomere. You were stunned on Wednesday when you shared the time and location of the gathering and Kandomere assured you he’d attend. It wasn’t his assurance that shocked you, or his willingness to spend a prime Friday night eating lasagna with a suburban family of 5 (6, counting you), or even the professional uneasiness of going to a family dinner with your superior. 

You felt  _ relief _ when he said he’d be there. A strange flutter rose in your chest when he insisted he’d pick you up and drive you home too. He offered a practical explanation of course - one car is better than two and all that. It finally dawned on you that you  _ wanted _ to Kandomere to come. 

And  _ that _ was the problem confronting you when you slipped through the door of your apartment on Friday afternoon and prepared to tackle the absurdity of your evening plans. It was a familiar dance. You did your hair, freshened up your face, agonized over what to wear, and finally paced through your living room while stealing fervent glances at the digital clock displayed on your ancient coffee pot as you waited for Kandomere to pick you up. 

It felt too much like a date. The careful choices for your appearance, the waiting anxiously by your phone, the hoping that your family would like him - these were date rituals. These were boyfriend rituals. 

But Kandomere was not your boyfriend. Kandomere was a walking, talking, sneering elf gorget-wearing visual definition of the word unattainable. Having a crush on your coworker was stupid. Having a crush on your stupidly handsome elven coworker? That was delusional. 

You’d consoled yourself over the telenovela-level disaster you’d somehow gotten yourself into by baking. You liked baking in general and often overindulged in the hobby during particularly stressful periods. You found something therapeutic in kneading bread dough and whisking cake batter. 

You’d baked something every night since your sibling invited Kandomere to dinner. Two dozen blueberry-lemon-poppyseed muffins on Tuesday, your favorite coffee cake with cinnamon bun glaze on Wednesday, and a layered chocolate cake with dulce de leche buttercream icing and mocha drizzle on Thursday. 

Okay, you’d meant to make the cake. You always brought desert to family dinners and this one was your sibling’s favorite. You’d deposited the muffins in the breakroom at work early enough that no one knew who’d brought them. Overhearing the steady stream of compliments whenever you made another cup of coffee or refilled your water bottle had been uplifting, even if you didn’t take credit. You’d kept the coffee cake for yourself at home. The dulce de leche cake was neatly and securely packed in a portable cake stand, waiting on Kandomere to pick you up. 

Your heart leapt into your throat when you heard a knock at the door. You’d expected the innocuous buzz of a text message, but the sound of knuckles tapping lightly against the door pierced the tense silence of your apartment like a dart.

Cautiously, you crossed the living room and pressed your eye to the peephole. Kandomere, continuing to astound you in all the worst ways, stood in the harsh fluorescent lighting of your apartment corridor. It wasn’t a bad place to live - certainly nicer than a lot of other complexes in LA - but Kandomere still looked equally out-of-place and breathtaking. 

“Sir,” was the best greeting you could come up with as you stepped out into the hallway.

“So formal,” he said, his eyes sweeping across you appraisingly before settling on the cake carrier clutched in your hands. 

“Dessert, I assume?” 

“By my sibling’s personal request. I hope you like chocolate,” you teased. 

“Not your nephews’ choice? I didn’t expect you to miss a chance to spoil them.” he said, gesturing toward the end of the corridor, where the elevator was, in an obvious invitation to get going. 

“I make whatever cake they want for their birthdays and any time I babysit. The younger one comes up with some weird flavor combinations and I’m waiting with baited breath to see what he asks for this year.” 

“A boy after my own heart.” Kandomere chuckled, “I have a horrible sweet tooth.”

You hadn’t meant to tell him more than he asked. The words just slipped out. You liked talking about the boys. More alarmingly, Kandomere seemed to like listening to you talk about them. Why else would he stop by your desk and make small talk about what school they attended and if their hobbies kept you busy on your days off?

The drive to your sibling’s home was mostly quiet. You traded inane details about cases you were working on and swapped MTF office chatter until Kandomere’s GPS brought you to your destination - one of those cookie-cutter suburban starter home communities. It was nicer than your apartment complex, but not nearly as luxurious as what you were sure Kandomere was used to.

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have bothered knocking, but you wanted to give your sibling and their spouse some warning before you brought a guest into their home. Your hand never made it to the door though. 

It jerked inward, startling you and throwing you off balance as the solid surface you were reaching for fled from your outstretched hand. A hand gripped you by your shoulder and steadied you before gently pulling you back to your feet. Kandomere, with the lightning fast reflexes and grace common among elves, had kept you from falling face first into your youngest nephew.

“Are you supposed to answer the door by yourself?” you chided him gently. 

Completely unfazed by your correction, he looked up at you and Kandomere and asked, “Why are you holding hands?”

Your face burned as you realized you’d brought your hand up to your shoulder when Kandomere kept you from falling a few seconds before. Instinctively, you both pulled your hands away, breaking the contact. 

Your sibling burst into view, holding your niece in their arms and telling their middle child not to be rude and keep you and Kandomere standing outside. 

As you suspected, everything was perfect. The lasagna was already on the table and had cooled to the point that it could be eaten without scorching your tongue. Kandomere had brought flowers as a gift instead of wine, not knowing if your niece was breastfed. She was, and your sibling and their spouse appreciated his thoughtfulness. Your nephews even ate most of their vegetables without needing to be pestered. 

Kandomere had been positively gregarious all evening, so it didn’t surprise you when he complimented you on your cake. You were a good baker after all, and knew a few secrets to making boxed cake mix taste like it was made from scratch. Covering it with heaps of homemade buttercream icing was one of them. 

“This is truly excellent. I never knew you were so accomplished y/n,” he praised. 

“Oh this isn’t even their best cake recipe. Y/n, you should bring your coffee cake into the office some time.” your in-law said.

“I should have known your best work would feature coffee.” Kandomere laughed. 

Before you could respond, the baby monitor crackled to life in your sibling’s hand. Your niece had slept through dinner peacefully, but now wanted attention. Your in law started to get up from the table, but you stopped her. 

“Let me get her. Sit down and eat your cake,” you insisted.

They didn’t argue. You’d done just about everything that babies required with all three of their children. From diapers to vomit, you’d handled it. Besides, Kandomere seemed to be having a good time. You wondered what embarrassing stories your sibling might try to tell him and if their spouse would them. 

Your niece was working herself up into a sobbing tantrum when you tiptoed into her room. She screeched indignantly when you picked her up and fisted your shirt in her chubby hands. You didn’t smell anything that pointed to her needing a change, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

You noticed her onesie was wet near the neck and touched your finger to her mouth. Now you had a sneaking suspicion as to why she was so irritated. Quietly, you retreated to the kitchen and reached into the freezer. Clutching your prize in one hand and holding your niece on your hip with the other, you returned to her room. Hopefully her teething ring and a few lullabies would get her back to sleep. 

By your second refrain of Frere Jacques, her sobs were quieting as she sucked almost hungrily at the cold teething ring. You sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star until you saw her eyelids drift closed. If she could make it through a round of Danny Boy, you could be sure she was asleep and put her back in her crib.

“And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me. . .” you crooned the final line, looking down at her for any sign of stirring. 

She was sound asleep. 

In the hallway, Kandomere’s ears twitched as he caught the sound of your lullabies. You didn’t have a great singing voice, but it was soothingly steady and soft. Clearly, it was good enough for the kids because even the oldest of your nephews was nodding off in his seat. 

It seemed that your lullaby affected the whole house, because you hadn’t been out of your niece’s nursery long before the process of saying goodbyes began. First the boys, who needed to go get ready for bed. Then your in-law, who always left you and your sibling alone together at the end of these nights. Your sibling always walked you to your car and waited until you disappeared from sight before turning out the lights and joining their spouse in bed. 

This all made it incredibly strange to experience your sibling walking you and Kandomere to the door. It only got weirder when you remembered that Kandomere had driven you both there and would therefore be driving you home. The whole affair seemed so intimate. You’d dated men who didn’t meet your family even after months, and yet he had met them less than a week ago and was already eating lasagna and getting goodbye hugs from your nephews. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so good with kids.” you blurted out, motivated equally by curiosity and desperation to break the mounting silence filling the car. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you assured him, “I just mean that most people who do that well with kids have experience. Either they grew up in a large family or they have kids of their own. I didn’t think either was true of you, so I didn’t expect you to be so good with my family. I meant it as a compliment Kandomere.”

He remained silent far longer than you liked before answering. 

“Elves usually don’t have large families. Most of us are only children and plenty of us don’t have children at all. Growing up, I always wanted a large family.”

“Well, you can still make that happen.” you said, and you regretted it as soon as the words came out your mouth. It sounded like you were flirting. You definitely hadn’t meant for that to sound like flirtation.

“With our hours? I’m not holding my breath.” he scoffed. 

“Oh come on. You’re an intelligent, attractive elf in LA. There are plenty of people who would date you. You just don’t meet them because you practically live at your desk.” you retorted. 

“Alright then y/n, why are still you single if you’re the expert?” His tone was playful, and his lips parted just enough for you to catch the glint of his sharpened canines through his smile. 

“Well, this may surprise you but the number of sane, available men attracted to human female cops with a background in martial arts and behavioural profiling is a statistical aberration.” 

You both erupted into peels of laughter. The mood in the car shifted suddenly, dispelling the tension as the suffocating silence fled in the wake of your laughter. You found that carrying on a conversation in such an intimate and personal setting as Kandomere’s car came much more easily when he was smiling at you. 

“And my family doesn’t like anyone I date. Not a single one.” you said, “Though they seem to like you.”

“Your nephew did tell me you were single.”

Your eyes widened in shock and you choked back a startled noise. You were tempted to ask which one, but were silent for the rest of the ride to your apartment. Your face burned in embarrassment. 

Despite that, now that you faced the possibility of ending the night, you hesitated. As much as you hadn’t looked forward to tonight, it had been pleasant.

It had been a while since you’d asked a man up to your apartment. And that wasn’t really what you were going for. You wanted Kandomere to come up with you but not like  _ that _ . 

_ Fuck it, _ you decided as he puled up to the curb.

“Would you be up for a second dessert course Kandomere?” you asked. 

You heard his breath hitch. The dim light of your complex’s parking garage and the inscrutable curtain of his lustrous hair made it impossible to gauge his reaction. 

“I happened to make that coffee cake my in-law mentioned on Wednesday night. You said earlier that you have a sweet tooth.”

Silence welled up around you like a rising tide. You were about to give up and get out of the car when he seemed to make a decision. Kandomere turned his crystalline eyes toward yours, and shifted the car into park. 

“I’d love that.”

As nerve-wracking as having Kandomere in your sibling’s home had been, inviting him into your tiny apartment was even worse. You kept it tidy thankfully, but you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about your modest lifestyle. 

He didn’t betray the faintest hint of judgement though. He seemed genuinely more interested in the promised coffee cake than scrutinizing your home. You had a stovetop espresso pot, and quickly set it to work on producing two cups of liquid caffeine. You’d worked with Kandomere long enough to know he never said no to coffee regardless of the time of day. 

Somehow, he looked less out of place on your couch than he had in the corridor at the beginning of your evening together. Maybe, you thought, it was the way he looked with his suit jacket removed, or the way he reclined into the plush cushions of your oversized second hand sofa. 

The coffee pot sang, signalling that it was time to cut the cake. It still looked and smelled as good as it had the night you’d made it. You brought the plates of cake and cups of steaming hot espresso to the coffee table and took a seat beside him on the sofa. 

Kandomere glided a dainty forkful to his lips, passing the fork between his perfectly white, pointed teeth. You watched him savor the bite like it was a gourmet morsel from some elftown patisserie. He even closed his eyes, as if to focus more on the taste. 

“I’m not complaining. I truly appreciate your talents y/n,” he said around a mouthful of cake, and your heart plummeted through the floor as you prepared to hear what you assumed would be a critical review of your very best cake. 

“But I have to know: why did you bake so much this week?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, not following his logic. He should only know about two desserts. Unless-.

“The muffins in the breakroom on Wednesday morning. Outside of the breakroom, the smell was strongest at your desk but I never saw you eat a single one. So the smell must have gotten on you a different way, like when you brought them into the breakroom.”

Sometimes you forgot he was a real federal agent with impeccable deductive reasoning skills and enhanced senses.

“Listen,” you blurted as your brain hastily tried to piece together a narrative that would adequately explain the situation without embarrassing you even more. It failed. 

“Oh, I am.” he said, smirking and leaning forward. 

“I had no idea how to handle tonight. It’s fine but it’s weird right? You’re not my direct supervisor but you are a senior agent and I work with you but we’re not close. But you’re invited to my sibling’s house for a family gathering and you have to understand that I have dated men for months who have never met my sibling’s kids. And I bake when I’m stressed, so I just kept baking things. I wasn’t even done after the dulce de leche cake. I’ve got dough in the freezer-”

Suddenly, his hands darted to your shoulders and pulled you toward him. You were cut off by his lips crashing against yours. You closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss. As one of his hands roamed upward from your shoulder to settle at the nape of your neck, the other wound itself in your hair, pulling you even closer.

You shuddered as his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The pressure of his teeth followed shortly behind, gently worrying your flushed and steadily swelling lips. He painted featherlight, teasing strokes against the roof of your mouth with his tongue, earning him a low, breathy moan.

He broke the kiss as quickly as he’d begun it. His hands and lips - along with their giddying warmth and attention - withdrew sharply as he tore himself away from you.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, snatching up his jacket, “This was a mistake.”

He retreated into the corridor, not casting even a split-second glance behind him as your front door slammed shut. 


	4. Chapter 4

If anyone had told you in the miserable weeks since Kandomere kissed you and fled your apartment that he’d be sitting on your sibling’s couch watching a Disney movie with your nephews and niece curled up between you, you would have started the paperwork to have them committed to a psychiatric facility right then and there. 

Weeks had slipped into months since Kandomere kissed you in your apartment. It was enough time for you to be fairly certain that he hadn’t filed a complaint with human resources or asked for you to be transferred to another division. As grateful as you were to still have your job, the time had underscored another, more uncomfortable point. Unfortunately, it was also enough time for you to really miss whatever your relationship had been before that night. 

Overnight, he’d stopped coming by your desk and making friendly conversation. In meetings, he always put himself in the seat farthest from you. Almost all work-related communication came from Montehugh now, because apparently even calling you was a mistake. 

The word haunted you. With the exception of a few curt greetings and orders, those were the last words you’d heard from him. But you hoped tonight’s plans would take your mind off them. Your sibling and their spouse were taking a long weekend to celebrate their anniversary. You’d agreed to move into their home while they were away and take care of your nephews and niece. Tonight was the first night of what they’d called ‘the long sleepover’, and you were excited to spend some time with them after weeks of pressure at work. 

And your mind had admittedly been pleasantly distracted until you’d investigated some suspicious noises coming from the back patio and found two would-be burglars trying to reach a second-story window and break in. Thankfully, yelling loudly that you were a federal agent and waving your stungun at them had been enough to subdue one and send the other fleeing into the night. 

Even without discharging your service weapon, the incident still created a bureaucratic headache. Any kind of police response to a law enforcement officer’s home was a cause for alarm. Both the LAPD and the county sheriffs committed units to patrolling the area and checking local hospitals. Your sibling’s supervisor had even volunteered to station a patrol car outside the house all weekend in case the suspects came back. 

Most shocking of all was watching Kandomere arrive in furious style in his polished black sportscar. He barely paused to put the vehicle in park before stomping up the drive toward you. Even the most senior officers on the scene had rarely crossed paths with federal agents of his rank, much less the elven commander of the Magic Task Force. 

You were pretty sure damn few people had ever seen him quite like this. His usual scowl was harder and more deeply etched into his otherwise handsome face than usual. He seemed to have forgotten his blazer. His vest hung open, unbuttoned and slouching against his expensive button down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, highlighting his bare forearms and the lack of cufflinks or his watch. He’d also seemed to have taken off his tie. 

Had he come from his home? Had he cut his night short to rush over to your sibling’s home? He seemed so disheveled that the horrifying thought that he might have been on a date sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. 

You nearly spit out the swig of water you'd taken when he fixed the ranking officer on scene with his most polite and unsettling smile and told them he’d personally keep watch. It was irregular, but no one was going to argue with him. Except you, of course. 

You were tired. More importantly, Kandomere’s rejection still stung and you weren't keen on being near him in an otherwise comfortable and private space. But all your arguing was futile. Between his infamous intimidation and mentioning that he’d been invited into the home before while casually dropping your in-law and all the kid’s names, he’d convinced the ranking officers to let him watch the house. 

As the last squad car pulled away, you whirled on him. Your tone was polite - he was still your coworker after all - but your rigid shoulders and crossed arms practically advertised your displeasure. 

“Coffee?” you asked curtly.

He nodded, his eyes seemingly grazing over yours rather than really looking at you, and followed you into the house. 

Your nephews were thrilled to see him and you didn’t want to think too hard on why that made you unhappy and, more importantly, what kind of relative that made you. If Kandomere was at all put off by your frosty behavior, he didn’t let it show. Halloween was approaching, and you and the kids had been immersed in Hocus Pocus before you’d heard the would-be burglars’ shoes scuffing against the side of the house. That felt like hours ago. The perfect ease with which Kandomere inserted himself into what was otherwise a perfect slice-of-life snapshot from the suburbs was alarming. 

Movie night? Check.

Blanket and pillow fort? Check.

Three excited kids fighting sleep as the TV flickers in front of them? Check. 

Hot elven boyfriend staying the night? Not quite. 

Soon enough, the boys lost their uphill battle with their own weary bodies. While they didn’t fully comprehend the potential danger of what you’d prevented, the excitement of so many strangers coming to the house had worn them out. Your niece had been put back in her crib about twenty minutes after you’d resumed the movie. 

That left you alone with Kandomere, despite the two tiny bodies laying in their make-shift fortress of pillows and blankets. You didn’t dare look at him. For all you knew, he probably found this movie offensive. You knew Halloween was a human holiday linked to Samhain, which was a big holiday for elves. You’d heard plenty of elves complain about hating Halloween and about it being a watered-down version of Samhain. As the final credits finished rolling across the screen, the living room was engulfed in still and silent darkness. Kandomere was the first to break it.

“Seems a shame to move them,” he said, “They’re sleeping so well.”

You kept your silence, considering the options. The boys could sleep through the night in their pillow fort. That wasn’t the problem. But you had to deal with Kandomere. You had planned to sleep in the guest room, but you could hardly let him sleep in your sibling’s bedroom. That was simply too intimate a space for your coworker, who had met your sibling a total of two times, to spend the night in.

“They’ll be fine here. The guest room is made up. It’s the last door on the left,” you told him as you gingerly rose from the couch to avoid waking either of your nephews. 

Without saying another word, you gathered up the handful of cans and juice boxes scattered on the coffee table and made your way to the garage. You needed some privacy - just a minute of privacy - to collect yourself. The near break-in was bad enough, your nerves were too frayed to let you sleep tonight. Having to interact with your Kandomere after he rejected you was the gritty, bitter icing on an awful, lumpy cake. 

After gently placing the cans and cartons in the recycling bin, you braced yourself against the wall. It was covered in a layer of soundproofing material, which felt soft against your fingers. Your sibling had told you once that the previous owners were musicians and used to practice in the garage, hence the soundproofing. Screwing your eyes shut tightly, you inhaled deeply and exhaled in a huff. 

Your frayed and frantic nerves, aggravated by the night’s earlier adrenaline, ensured that you heard Kandomere’s footsteps approaching from the hallway. You hadn’t turned the light on, so you couldn’t see him. It was childish, but you harbored a dim hope that he wouldn’t speak to you.

“We need to talk,” he murmured.

“No, we don’t,” you countered.

“Y/n,” he chided, “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

“Like what?” you retorted, “There’s nothing between us. Which is why I don’t understand why you’re here.”

“That’s not quite true, and you know it,” He sighed, grimacing.

“Really? I’m surprised we even have a work relationship anymore given how hard you’ve been avoiding me Kandomere.”

You couldn’t see his face in the dark, but his voice wavered enough to tell you that your words hit their mark. Hurt lingered in his tone when he answered. 

“I owe you an apology. I handled it poorly. But I’m here because I - I heard the call and had to see you. I care about you, and I had to know you were okay.”

“Didn’t take you for the kind of man to make the same mistake twice,” you hissed. There was less venom in your voice than you’d intended, but you still weren’t proud of it. 

Instead of replying, you heard him draw closer. You could feel warmth rolling off him as he neared, despite the general chill that always lingered in the garage, which was less insulated than the rest of the house despite the soundproofing. 

His lips crashed into yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. You wanted to argue - this was just as bad an idea as it had been weeks ago in your apartment. But you found yourself leaning into his embrace instead of pushing him away. Finally, you tore your lips from his, panting breathlessly into the nape of his neck. 

“The mistake was mine. I should have been more honest with you about my feelings. But I was worried you’d put in for a transfer or file a complaint.” he whispered, not loosening his grip on your waist. 

His words brought you out of the reverie of his touch and back to reality. How could he possibly not know?

“Kandomere, you’re not actually my boss. You lead the MTF, but I don’t actually report to you. I was appointed by a completely different division of the FBI.”

He blinked, as if to clear his eyes from some intrusive debris. They glinted like stained glass in the dim light spilling in from the corridor leading into the house.

“What do you mean?” he rasped. 

“We work in two different departments of the FBI. The MTF is part of the Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services branch. I was appointed to the MTF to represent the intelligence branch, and I still report to that side of the agency,” you explained. 

“So, you don’t actually report to me at all?” He quizzed, pinning you with a sharp, serious gaze that made you feel something like a butterfly pinned to a display.

You nodded. 

His features broke into a wide grin. His teeth - sharp and glinting in the dim light like ice under moonlight - were fully visible. In a flash, his weight settled against yours and sent you backward a few inches until you were leaning against the wall. 

“This isn’t any less of a terrible idea than it was in my apartment,” you whispered as his lips descended on the soft, delicate skin beneath your jaw.

“Actually, it’s an even worse idea because there are three children in this house.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet,” he teased, and put his warm, deft fingers over your mouth before attacking the waistband of our jeans with his other hand.


End file.
